


Unwelcome Petals

by Absolute_nerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolute_nerd/pseuds/Absolute_nerd
Summary: A lot of seventh years came back for an eighth year at Hogwarts, including Draco and Harry. After the war, Draco decided he was sick of being hateful, and wanted to make amends. He generally kept to himself, but had a growing problem that made it hard to breathe.





	1. The Seed

Draco didn't want this. He never wanted this. And oh Merlin, was he terrified.

At this point, there was nothing he could do, but hope, which was most likely in vain. He had returned to Hogwarts against his better judgement, for eighth year. He knew it was likely that he would be outcast and ostracized but he figured he'd be fine with it. He went back there to finish his education, not to make conversation and friends for life.

Draco assumed it was too late for that anyways.

The first night back wasn't too bad, the feast was similar and welcoming, considering his entire family was now torn apart and there was no such thing as normal.

Despite the fact he didn't want to bring attention to himself, a few days before he had returned to Hogwarts from summer and community service, which was his deserving punishment from the ministry, he had decided to dye his hair none other colour than sky blue.

He wanted to part from his well known old self completely. Draco had cut off his long hair that he had been growing to please his father and dyed it an outrageous colour that "No Malfoy would ever do such an improper thing." as a grand Fuck You to his father.

Stepping into the Great Hall for the first time in a few months, which was quite wonderfully restored from the war, was an experience.

He had gotten used to the whispers by now, familiar with the insults spoken under people's breath about his undeserving freedom and his terrible acts. He knew. He knew he had done terrible things, and just wanted to escape from it.

If he could, Draco would've taken it all back.

But these whispers were different, ones, almost sounding of awe and surprise. Some were still bitter and rude but he expected nothing less.

He kept his head down and found his place at the designated eighth year table, mixed houses. He heard the low murmurs around him, seemingly floating around his head and dancing about his ears. "Is that really?- I can't believe that Malfoy kid- It's blue!- I quite like it-" The whispers persisted until McGonagall stood, ready to give the welcoming speech.

Draco was thankful for the lapse in concentration on him, everyone turning and silencing themselves to listen to the headmistress.

He caught bits and pieces of the speech but he was mainly focused on letting his eyes wander. Taking advantage of the quiet and distracted students, he moved his eyes upwards, letting them trace the beams of the Great Hall, watching them fade into the enchantment on the ceiling, which on this night, was clear and starry.

He picked out a few of the constellations he knew, he brought his eyes back downwards, letting them sweep the faces of those at the eighth year table.

Not many Slytherins had decided to come back this year, understandably so. Many of them were thought of as terrible people, even those that had nothing to do with the war. Perhaps that was why those of them were hated, for stepping back and not fighting for the good.

People didn't understand them, pureblood Slytherin families were raised for generations upon generations to be smart, to fight on the winning side.

Strategically, fighting for the Dark Lord or doing nothing at all were the best options. Draco knew he grew up misguided, he knew he had been terrible at school and especially rude to muggleborns and he regretted his actions every day since he became clear that his father had taught him wrong.

But up until then, to survive, sticking with what he had grown up with, was the smartest idea. The safest. Even his mother encouraged it.

That was all behind him now, a painful memory that followed him around, in the back of his mind and in his dreams. It taunted him and he felt helpless about it.

He scanned the table, recognizing a few fellow Slytherins among the few Ravenclaws, many Hufflepuffs, and even more Gryffindors.

Though, all together, there still weren't many of them that had returned for eighth years. Blaise Zabini had returned, and well as Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott, but they never really talked besides formalities. Including Draco, that was all of the Slytherins.

As for the Ravenclaws, he had never really paid them any attention, neither did he pay attention to the Hufflepuffs.

The Gryffindors were a different story when it came to Draco.

From a young age, he was always told to keep an eye on Gryffindors. They were untrustworthy, arrogant, and 'Brave is another word for stupidity.' as his family always said. So Draco always sneered at them, following what his father said because it was just easier.

At some point, he had convinced himself that Gryffindors were indeed bullheaded and incompetent. He had convinced himself that he hated them. And he hated them. Draco really did.

He didn't understand the appeal of being 'brave' and jumping into the Black Lake at two a.m. when it was fifty degrees out. He also didn't understand Potter's seemingly desperate desire to be out of bed and causing trouble all hours of the night.

But at this point, he was sick of hate, and he was sick of war and the idea that one person was better than another due to their blood status or upbringing.

Of course, he wasn't sure that he could hang around with Gryffindors for prolonged periods of time without hexing at least one, though it seemed it would be unavoidable soon, sharing a community eighth year dorm room.

So he was sure, as long as he kept his head down this year, no trouble would befall him and Draco would manage to graduate and get a job as a Healer, if anyone would have him.

Of course, because his head wasn't down, but up, did all of the trouble start.

Only when his eyes were making their way back down the table, did he snap himself away from his thoughts, the applause for the end of McGonangall's speech jarring him into the present moment.

Draco realized he was staring at something. No, at someone. A light blush of embarrassment appeared on his face as he realized he was staring at.

The Golden Child. Saint Potter. The Saviour. It wasn't only that he found himself staring at Harry Fucking Potter, himself, but it was the fact that Potter was staring back at him. Draco opened his mouth to apologize, ready to explain that he had spaced out on accident and wasn't glaring at Potter, but Potter just smiled softly at him.

Draco was so alarmed all he could do was smile weakly back, before forcing his gaze back down to the table, studying it intently.

Why was Potter staring at him? Was he even staring at him? It didn't matter, did it?

It had been strange between them, since Harry had testified and saved him from a life sentence in Azkaban. It was obvious that they weren't exactly enemies anymore, but it wasn't like they were friends.

They had barely talked, and Draco never got the chance to thank him, anyways. Harry had gotten incredibly busy, since he had defeated Voldemort, the boy never got a free moment, and he didn't want to bother him with talking of the past when Harry had so little time on his hands anyways.

Draco kept sneaking glances at Potter throughout the sorting ceremony, half hoping to catch his eye and half hoping Potter would hex him, so he at least knew where they stood.

No such luck, Potter had gotten distracted by Ron and Hermione, always by his side. He caught himself wondering what it would really be like to have such good friends. Ones that weren't made as a strategic move.

He pushed the thought aside, he wasn't here to make friends. He was here to finish school.

As the sorting ceremony went on, there were mixed emotions at the eighth year table. There was equal clapping for each house that the first years were sorted into, despite the fact that there were uneven numbers of the houses at their table. Despite the happiness that came with seeing young, new faces, innocent and not quite yet corrupted, there seemed to be a sad weight in the air that mingled with the happiness and joy of the others.

For those that fought in the war, Hogwarts was different for them now.

They saw the newly restored hallways still covered in rubble and concrete, curses reflecting off the walls. They looked at the Great Hall and remembered how it looked with all the tables pushed to the side and bodies lined up, rows upon rows with weeping people over them.

They saw death, and felt such loss, most of them barely of age. And so with the grief that still hung over them and weighed on their chests at the most random of times, there was a sense of community among the eighth years. A sense that couldn't help but be present after all of the suffering they went through collectively.

At this point, Draco was exhausted. He just wanted to eat and then get into bed.

The rest of the feast passed with a blur.

He ate quickly and then waited until the plates were cleared, standing and following the appointed eighth year prefects to their makeshift dorm. Though all the eighth years were grouped with their housemates, the Slytherins didn't really talk to one another.

Since the war, there was less camaraderie between them. There was never camaraderie in the traditional sense. Mostly, as they were taught, they were simple allies for strategic reasons. Nonetheless, seemingly the opposite of the other houses who were brought closer together by the war, the Slytherins were more shut out.

Both by one another and their fellow classmates. 

In Draco's case, he sort of chose it for himself. He didn't want to risk getting hurt. And he certainly didn't want to talk about it. The war, the panic attacks, the gut wrenching nightmares. 

He didn't want to risk getting close to him. As much as he desired companionship, he wanted to get done with school and out the rest of it behind him. He didn't want to be labelled as a Death Eater, though he had the telling mark on his left arm.

One that he felt plagued him every day. 

Since this was a mixed house dorm and a whole new year of students, there were four prefects, one from each house. They took turns stating the rules that all of them knew, so it was just a formality, before giving them the password and showing to their dorms.

Since there weren't that many of them, and the eighth year dorms were actually quite large, they were aloud to chose who they wanted to dorm with. They were all of age and so the prefects hadn't bothered in trying to separate the dorms by gender. They knew some sneaking around would happen anyways.

Draco chose a dorm room that had the standard four beds and bathroom, but one that no one else was in as far as he could see. He didn't want to have to deal with anyone else and he figured no one would want to room with him, being an ex-death eater.

He walked in and dumped his things on the farthest bed, one near a window over looking the Black Lake.

The man admired the view for an indiscriminate amount of time, getting lost in the little ripples that he could see from the tower. As much as he was pleased with the elegance and the security of the Slytherin dorms, nothing beat this view. 

When he was younger, he taught himself sign language and conversed with the merfolk to pass time or avoid studying. 

He was still lost in the view when he jumped, hearing someone else in the room. He turned, and found it was none other than Saint Potter himself. He ran a hand through his sky blue hair, pushing it out of the way as he looked at Harry.

An uncertain, but comfortable silence lingered between them as neither of them spoke for a few seconds. "'M sorry." Draco mumbled, barely meeting Harry's eyes. "I can find a different dorm." He went to pick up his things before Harry stepped forward and stopped him, a hand on his shoulder. He looked at Potter curiously. He didn't want trouble.

He had grown up.

He felt compelled to look into Harry's eyes. Something about his presence gripped him. "No, don't worry about it." The dark haired boy shook his head. "Stay, please. I'd rather room with you, actually. I think it'd be nice to just have us two." Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"I'd room with Ron and Hermione but I'm sure they'd rather have a room to themselves as well. And everyone else looks at me like I'm glass or like I'm a hero, and I'd rather not deal with that. So stay, if you want to." Harry said, looking at Draco with a look he couldn't describe would before continuing. "Besides, I think it's preferable to have peace and quiet. I've had enough of loud and rowdy to last a lifetime."

There was weight to Harry's words that was unspoken, but obvious. 

Harry ran a hand through his already hopeless hair and then rubbed the back of his neck, his green eyes flashing in the moonlight. Draco was taken aback by the boy's offer for him to stay, despite the fact that Harry was there first.

And there he was again, thought Draco.

There goes Potter being nice and perfect and kind. Draco called him the Golden Boy for a reason. "Alright." The blue haired boy said. "But only because I want a quiet room, without people whispering at me." He said decidedly, setting his bag back down with a thump.

Harry nodded, not saying much more but returning to his bed, unpacking and then disappearing into the bathroom.

Draco felt weird, his lungs were uncomfortable, almost as if there was something planted in them. He attributed it to anxiety as he unpacked, organizing his things as he liked them.

He coughed a couple of times, summoning a glass of water that seemed to help for a bit. Once Harry was done brushing his teeth, Draco went into the bathroom as well, washing his face and brushing his teeth.

As he looked in the mirror, the blue hair was quite stark against the contrast of the dark bathroom tiles. He almost didn't look the same without his signature Malfoy blond hair, not that he was complaining.

He dyed it for exactly that reason. He didn't want to be seen as that person anymore.

Draco finished in the bathroom and walked out quietly to the dorm room, hearing the rhythmic breathing of Harry sleeping.

Draco got into his bed, charming the hangings of his four poster a pleasant and almost soothing, deep green colour.

He hated himself for it sometimes, but green was one of his favourite colours. He had never liked the obnoxious red that symbolized Gryffindor. He settled in, pulling the blankets up to his chest, and turned on his side.

Through a small slit in the part of his curtain, he could see Potter, sleeping peacefully. For some reason, his curtains weren't pulled around his four poster like Draco had assumed he would for privacy.

Perhaps it was the sad reality of living through a war. Especially being the famed Chosen One, he had already been through all sorts of hell, had experienced such unimaginable loss that sleeping with his curtains open wasn't something that concerned him. 

He didn't mean to stare. He really didn't, but it was nice, and though it felt sort of wrong, it also felt good to watch Potter without having to worry about being seen. He noticed the way his unruly hair seemed to curl softly around his ears, the way his face looked naked and vulnerable without his glasses. Harry's hair wasn't entirely covering his forehead, but Draco could see a little of the famous scar.

It wasn't as ugly as Draco always claimed it was, the pale scar seeming to catch the light against Potter's darker skin. Though he wasn't entirely sure that Harry truly didn't like the attention, he knew how it felt to have something on your body that brought so much unwanted scrutiny.

The dark mark among his pale skin was enough to remind him of that.

He watched Potter sleep for what could have been hours, or only minutes, as he fell slowly to an uneasy sleep.

His chest felt tight, though he didn't know why and he had nameless feelings about facing this next and final year at Hogwarts, rooming with the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World. All of that slipped his mind in the hours to come as sleep overtook him, pushing him into the throes of a dream.


	2. The Seedling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and tension

At first, Draco's sleep was only uneasy. 

But as the hours progressed, so did his dream. 

It felt as though there was pressure on his chest, making it not impossible to breathe, but labouring his breath. In his sleep as well as in his dream, he struggled. 

Draco was in a garden, walking along in a tired haze. The flowers were gorgeous. Luminous and attractive with their lovely scent and delicate petals. There were many types of flowers, all breathtaking in their own ways.

He could smell lavender, crouching on the well worn gravel path to take a flowering bud into his fingers. He smiled softly, leaning forward and smelling them, trying to inhale deeply. 

For some reason he couldn't inhale as deeply as he wanted. Draco felt uneasy about it, but shook his head, trying to ignore it. The flowers seemed soothing, sedative. He gave in, standing up and wandering further into the garden. 

The night was cool on his skin, but not the biting cold that one would expect. It lulled him into calmness that was much appreciated, and frankly, quite needed. 

Further into the garden, there were lilacs, and roses, and some flowers that he couldn't name. The further he got into the garden, the worse his breathing became. 

Once he passed the rosebush, he officially couldn't breathe. He coughed, his lungs screaming for air but he couldn't do anything to satisfy them. 

Draco fell to his knees, coughing so hard he could feel his throat getting raw. Every part of this dream was so vivid and he could feel the pain as though it was actually happening. The silver moonlight and cool air that moved the petals of the flowers ever so softly were seemingly teasing Draco as he tried desperately for air. 

The gravel under his knees was painful, one hand on the ground and the other clawing at his chest as though he could save himself. He couldn't save himself. Draco stopped clawing at his chest and covered his mouth, trying to calm himself, panic setting in as he still couldn't seem to breathe. 

He felt something in his throat and felt both fear and relief. Perhaps that was what was causing all this, and maybe he would be fine once it was out of his airway. Draco's vision was starting to go fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he continued to cough, desperate to get a breath of air.

With a couple of particularly violent coughs, his throat was free of the obstacle, though still raw and hurt.  

Draco looked at his hand, finding blood and what looked like blue little circles on his palm. His chest was heaving as he sat back on his knees, inspecting the odd sight on his hand.

He wasn't particularly surprised by the blood, especially because of how hard he was coughing. No, what puzzled him was the blue. He looked closer, finding that they were little blue petals, no bigger than a few millimeters. 

Before he could make any guesses as to what they were or how they got in his throat, he jerked awake, sitting up so suddenly that he hurt his neck. Draco winced, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hands, frowning as he realized he must have been coughing in his sleep. He attributed that to the strange dream, assuming his physical distress transferred into the dream.

He sat up, feeling a little chilled. Draco shivered lightly, before pushing his curtains aside and sitting up. He swung his legs over the side and flinched as the bed creaked slightly. Draco glanced over at Harry, hoping he hadn't woken the man up either from his coughing or from the noisy creak of his bed. 

The blue haired man stood and slowly made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a cup and turning on a faucet. Draco drained the entire glass quickly, the cold water soothing on his throat before he filled the glass up halfway and sipping from it as he quietly made his way back to his bed.

He set his glass on his nightstand softly as he could and sat on his bed, looking up to glance at Potter again. He jumped in surprised as he saw that Potter was indeed awake, looking at him quizzically. 

"Merlin, Potter!" Draco exclaimed softly in surprise, his blue grey eyes meeting green ones.

Harry laughed quietly, sitting up properly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just heard your footsteps and I think I heard coughing earlier but I'm not sure, it could have been a dream." He rambled slightly, half from tiredness and half from being flustered. 

Harry didn't want it to seem like he was watching Draco and being creepy. 

Draco shook his head, biting his lip awkwardly. "No, no it's fine. I was awake, I needed water." He said. "You just startled me." He attempted a weak smile.

Harry leaned back on his hands, his legs swinging childishly off the bed. 

Draco smiled this time, and it wasn't a pained smile. A genuine smile that felt foreign on his face. 

Harry smiled back and it felt strange, safe, almost. 

He felt a flutter in his stomach which he attributed to tension left over from his dream, not trying to think about it too much. Maybe it was just that he had never been on such good terms with Harry like this, it had never been so casual. 

Draco decided he liked it, but pushed it to the back of his mind. At this point, neither of them had said anything for awhile but it wasn't disagreeable. 

Harry broke eye contact and shifted, so Draco moved too, laying back down but this time leaving his curtains open. He turned on his side, and found Harry on his side looking his way as well. Draco didn't look away this time. 

"Do you have nightmares too?" The blue haired man asked softly, not entirely sure that Harry had even heard him.

"Yes." Harry said just as softly, turning onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. Draco kept looking at Harry, waiting for the man to respond before tearing his eyes away and letting his gaze wander around the room. 

"I think mine are no longer of the past." Potter revealed, catching his attention once again. But it's like he needed to try hard, he had always caught Draco's attention. "They're more of losing the people I love now. Everyone who survived. I dream that Voldemort wasn't actually defeated and he's taken all of them-" Harry cut himself off. 

Draco had clamped his hand over his mouth, nearly vomiting at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. He turned over, facing away from Harry, not wanting him to notice as his body shook with intense fear.

He had said that name once, and the consequences were dire. 

He tried to pull himself together, forcing himself to hold his breath to calm himself down. It worked well enough and he was able to turn to look at the ceiling. 

He told himself he wouldn't be weak anymore.

"Ha," Draco laughed softly with no humour. He wasn't laughing at Harry, he was laughing with bitterness at the person who had taken his childhood from him. Draco's voice wavered as he spoke.  "Mine are the opposite. Generally, they're back at the manor. When the Dar- You-Know-Who was there." He shuddered and stopped talking. He didn't feel like continuing and Potter seemed to understand.

Potter sat up, getting off his bed and moving to sit on the one that separated them. Draco frowned softy, sitting up again and looking at him tentatively. 

Potter crossed his legs and Draco did the same, his head cocked to the side in confusion. "It's four am, don't you want to sleep? What are you doing?" He asked.

Harry simply held out his hand. "I want to start over." A mischievous grin crossed his face. "You don't want to be making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Harry quoted, the very same words Draco had said to him when they met again on the steps of Hogwarts.

He moved his hand forward a little more in hopes Draco would take it.

A grin flashed across Draco's face as well as he crossed his arms, turning his nose up at Harry's hand. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." He said, but uncrossed his arms and shook Harry's hand anyways.

This handshake felt like a promise. Of what, neither of them were sure, but they both knew, wordlessly, that it meant something.

The blue haired boy wasn't sure if he was imagining it or if their touch lingered a little longer than necessary. 

Draco met eyes with Harry. "So you want to start over? Between us? I'm still an asshole. Not a Death Eater anymore, but an asshole." He laughed awkwardly, looking down. 

He had been raised to portray himself as confident, and he always had. It wasn't that Draco wasn't confident, it was that he didn't want to bring attention to himself. After all the backlash he had gotten, rightfully so, he figured it would be best to just sit on the sidelines. 

Harry laughed as well, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't expecting anything less." He grinned. 

Draco liked this. He never had a proper mate. Pansy and Blaise were different than this. 

"Brilliant, because I'm not sure I'll change completely. Besides, one could argue you're more of a pain in the arse than I am." He raised his eyebrow almost in a challenge. 

Harry took the bait and threw a pillow at him. "Oh shut up, you!" He had a grin on his face and it was obvious he didn't actually mean it. 

Draco caught the pillow with quick hands, a gift bestowed upon him by years of training for being a seeker. 

He threw the pillow back and it was clear that they were evenly matched as Harry caught it, and threw the other pillow from the bed he was sitting on, using the pillow he had caught from Draco as a shield. 

Draco laughed, hitting Harry's pillow shield with his own pillow, trying to knock it out of his hands. "If we're starting over, I assume we should use each others first names, or should I just call you 'The Chosen One?'" He teased, sticking his tongue out at the messy haired boy.

Harry laughed, groaning in annoyance. "Please don't, I get enough of that from the papers." He put his pillow in his lap, resting his head in his hands. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Golden Child it is, then." He smirked bemusedly.

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Sure, whatever, _Draco_." 

Hearing his name in Harry's mouth made his stomach flip for some reason. Must be the fact that his long time enemy is now his tentative friend, right? 

"Bugger off, _Harry_." Draco retaliated, his name feeling alien in his mouth, but not wrong.

Harry grinned, satisfied with his victory. "We should sleep, yeah?" Draco nodded. "Not sure if I will be able to, but might as well try, I guess." The dark haired boy nodded. "Yeah. Not that the professors will be particularly hard on us, especially on our first day back." 

The words held a little more meaning than Harry meant them to. 

Of course, the professors would be happy to see all of them, perhaps with the exception of Draco. They were all very tolerant, and aware that he had made amends in all the ways he knew possible.

But the weight of remembering all of those that would not return to the first day of classes with them. All their friends that couldn't. 

Though Crabbe wasn't exactly Draco's best mate, he got used to having him around. And no one should ever have had to seen anyone die at their age, let alone the amount that had.

The war stole their childhood, their innocence, and made them grow up too fast. Returning to Hogwarts was an unspoken promise to let them be teenagers again without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Harry seemed to be lost in his thoughts as well, but looked up and caught Draco's eye. 

They were quiet, their eye contact more open than it had ever been. Before, it was always guarded, always a sneer or a frown directed at each other but this was different. 

They were seeing one another as real, tangible people, no longer just people on the other side of the line. 

"Did I ever tell you that I like your hair? The blue, I mean. It makes your eyes look like they're the same shade. It suits you." Harry rambled awkwardly, breaking the silence. 

Draco hoped that the heat that rose to his face wasn't visible in the soft moonlight. "Oh, well, thank you, Harry." The use of his formal rival's name wasn't quite natural yet but he didn't mind. "And I see your hair is as hopeless as ever." He said back, a smug look on his face.

Harry just rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Draco. "You're right for once. Well, about the fact that you truly are an arse." He crossed his arms. 

Draco just looked amused at the remark and threw the pillow he was holding at Harry again.

"Go to bed, I'm tired of talking to you." The blue haired boy replied, laying back down.

Harry was a little disappointed to stop talking with Draco but shrugged and got off the middle bed, walking back over to his. 

"Goodnight, Draco." He mumbled into his pillow. 

"Goodnight, Saint Potter." Draco said, closing his curtains, so as to not allow Harry a chance to reply. 

He heard a quite huff of annoyance from him, causing Draco to smile, pleased with himself. 

He grabbed one of his books from the trunk under his bed,  _Magical Illnesses and Cures_ that was required for the new Apothecary class that Draco had selected to take. It was perfect for the job he wanted when he graduated, to be a Healer. 

Not that he had ever told anyone about it but he had always been fascinated with medicine. Especially to help people.

His family had always led him on the path of hate, but even as a little boy, he had wanted to heal people, maybe because he felt like he couldn't heal himself. He had always had a piece missing, though he didn't know what. 

"Lumos." He whispered, pulling his blanket up and starting in on his book. He wanted to be prepared for classes the next day. 

Besides, he knew there was no way he was getting back to sleep, and so what better way to pass time than to over prepare. 

* * *

Draco read for what seemed like hours before sleep reclaimed him, pulling him into a tentative sleep. He slept no longer than a half an hour before he woke up in a coughing fit, one again, unable to breathe. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as the dream he had had the night before was, but it was enough to startle him awake. 

Draco was thankful for the glass of water he had left on his nightstand, grabbing it and sipping on it, temporarily soothing his throat. He got up, walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth and such.

Right after he finished brushing his hair, he doubled over coughing again. He covered his mouth, feeling as though he was reliving his dream due to the fact that something that was blocking his airway made its way out of his lungs, forced out by all the coughing.

Once his airway was clear once again, the coughing ceased and his blood ran cold as he saw what was in his hand.

Draco's dream the night before seemed to have told the future, as when he looked down in his palm, a little flower was there. Almost a purple blue, sitting there, delicate in his hand.

Before he could react or inspect further, Harry shuffled into their shared bathroom, all messy hair and crumpled clothing. 

Draco nodded a good morning, casually rubbing his hand on his side to rid himself of the flower, and quickly putting toothpaste on his tooth brush and brushing his teeth as Harry headed to the showers. 

Harry stopped for a second, turning and looking at Draco. 

"If you're okay with waiting, when I get out we can head down to breakfast together. I shouldn't be long. And if you want, you can eat with Ron, Hermione and I." Harry said with a small smile.

Draco was too shocked to do anything but nod. "Sure." He replied softly, turning back to the mirror and finishing brushing his teeth.

He looked into his eyes in the mirror. 

He didn't know what was happening or how he knew, but he knew he had gotten himself into something inescapable, and he wasn't entirely sure he was scared of it. 

At least, not completely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And don't be afraid to comment! Little comments make writing like this make it all the better.


	3. The Bud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco considers joining quidditch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end notes seem to be glitching so I apologize for that. I'm not sure how to fix it. I apologies for not being able to post last weekend. It was kinda hectic. Oh, also, I finished writing this at like twelve thirty am and I haven't gone through it for editing so fair warning, there's probably many mistakes. I apologise in advance. But anywho, please enjoy this next chapter!

Draco wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of eating breakfast with Po- Harry. 

Sure, he was interested to see where this tentative, new friendship would go, but he wasn't so sure about P- Harry's friends.

He knew it would be rough. He knew that he was a big asshole to them for their entire Hogwarts career. 

Draco couldn't put words to it, but he wanted to make amends, and he intended to do it for better or for worse. 

* * *

He felt tense about his earlier coughing fit, feeling as though he knew what seemed to be happening to him, but he couldn't put words to it. 

Draco didn't really feel like eating breakfast right now, his chest hurt and he wanted to continue to study for his Apothecary class. The blue haired man sat back down on his bed, moving his curtains aside and letting in natural light to read by.

The thought of studying made him forget his chest hurting and his earlier coughing fit.

He had read through a couple pages, making notes in the margins of his book as Harry stepped out of the bathroom. He already had on his trousers, slung low on his hips with his white button up shirt mostly undone and his tie loose around his neck.

Draco rolled his eyes and Harry huffed, "Hey! What're you rolling your eyes at? Have I annoyed you already?"

Not looking up from his book, he replied, "Yes, obviously. Coming out of the bathroom at that state of undress, it's just such a low standard for The Boy Who Lived, don't you think?" 

Harry rolled is eyes this time. "Yeah, well we weren't all raised in a manor, you know. It's fine to go about like this while in your own home, room especially, isn't it? Besides, I'm in the midst of finishing getting dressed as we speak!" He argued.

Draco stared at Harry, unamused. He tried not to look at the skin that was slowly being covered as Harry buttoned it. "I believe I've heard you calling all of Hogwarts your home, so are you telling me you're going to breakfast like that? First of all, I'm not sure the professors would allow it. Secondly, I thought you were trying to avoid the press, or are you just trying to get a girlfriend, Potter? Because I'm sure the press would love to take that story and run with it." 

For some reason, his heart panged as he mentioned Harry trying to get a girlfriend. Probably because he didn't want to have a girl in their dorms all the time, in his space and messing with his peace and quiet. Right? 

"Bugger off, Malfoy." Harry said, finishing buttoning his shirt and tying his tie. Draco's mind flashed the image of his own fingers fumbling with the buttons, undoing them and then throwing the shirt to the floor.

He nearly pulled a face at the idea of that. Why would he ever think that about Harry?

Harry pulled his sweater over his head, ruffling his hair impossibly more, and then pulling on his robes over his shoulders.

The man looked delightfully disheveled. His tie was crooked, and his shirt not tucked in all the way while Draco sat on his bed, well put together. 

"You're a mess." Draco said, turning his attention back to his book. Harry walked over to his bed and looked at the book he was reading. "That looks boring." He said, matter of fact. "Well, you coming to breakfast?" 

Draco looked up, his eyes a little distant as he tried to commit a fact to memory. He had always been one of the top students in his year, and he wasn't planning to let that slip now. That was probably the only redeemable quality about his reputation. 

"No, I'm not hungry, and I need to study." He said, quickly writing in the margins of his book again distractedly.

"Bloody hell, Draco, it's only the first day of school!" Harry exclaimed. "We haven't even gone to any classes yet! There's no way you need to study right now."

Draco shook his head. "I'd rather go to class prepared. Go eat breakfast with your friends, I'll be fine." 

Harry wanted to protest but he really had no standing to. It's not like him and Draco were _really_ friends or anything. He grabbed his bag so he wouldn't have to come back to their dorm before class, and looked at Draco, who looked up at him. "Fine, but get something to eat at some point, alright?" 

"I will." He replied. Draco figured he'd stop by the kitchens in between classes before lunch. 

Harry nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Draco put down his book and almost gasped for air, feeling like there was a weight on his chest. He made himself breathe slowly, trying to get as much air as he could. 

"It must be anxiety, or something." He mumbled to himself, having forgot about the petals once again. 

Draco tried to ignore it, focusing back on his book. When he looked up from it, he realized it was time to get to class and too late to grab food from the kitchens. He grabbed his robes, pulling them on and then his book bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he walked down the stairs to the eighth year common room. 

He saw few other people, which he was actually quite thankful for.

Draco hurried down the steps and through the halls to his first class. He sat down in the first available seat, his lack of sleep from the night before starting to catch up with him. He rubbed his face, trying to keep himself awake. That running hadn't helped now that his blood wasn't pumping as fast, it only seemed to tire him out physically to match the level of mental tiredness that he was at.

He looked around the class, finding it was smaller than he had originally thought. 

He wasn't complaining, Draco preferred a class with minimal fuss. 

Not that Draco had expected any different, but there were no other Slytherins, only about five Hufflepuffs, two Gryffindors, and a Ravenclaw. 

He decided not to bother with the rest of them and looked down, pulling out his book and opening it to the chapter he was on, continuing his notes. 

He only looked up when he heard a voice speak to him. "Wow, mate. Already on chapter four? That's four chapters ahead of the class, especially since this is the first day of class." Draco looked a little startled. He recognized the boy, and the girl standing beside him. 

Draco brushed his hair out of his face. "Oh, erm. Ernie Macmillan, right? And Hannah.. Hannah Abbott?" Ernie nodded, as did Hannah from behind him. 

Both of the Hufflepuffs looked surprised. Draco looked a little sheepish as Ernie pulled out the chair next to him. "Mind if we sit here?" He shook his head, slipping his bookmark into the book and closing it. "Go ahead." He looked down for a second before looking over at them.

Draco opened his mouth but Hannah spoke before he could say anything. "I know. You don't have to say anything. I know you're sorry." She smiled sweetly at him, and he looked surprised, glancing over at Ernie. 

Ernie looked just as nice and kind, as though he agreed. "Oh, well, okay." Draco trailed off, not sure what to say. Ernie put his feet up on the desk and relaxed into his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "How'd you know our names anyways? It's not like we really talked in the past seven years." Hannah nodded in agreement. 

She too, was curious. 

Draco brushed his hair out of his face again, it seemed to bee a little bit of a nervous habit now. "Well, Ernie, you're a pureblood. It was sort of a necessity to know who was or not, and to decide if you were a blood traitor or not. And you, Hannah, are a half blood. I guess I just had to know these things. Especially the past two years." 

He dropped his gaze. He didn't want to see the hate or pain in their eyes. 

Ernie just shrugged. "That must've been hell to memorize." Draco looked up again. "I guess. My life pretty much depended on it though, so that was a good motivator." 

Talking about it felt weird to Draco. "Forgive me," he said as he drummed his fingers on the table. "Er, this is the most I've talked about the war since the trials after the battle here." His eyes were a little misty.

"Really?" Hannah asked, quite surprised. "Have you had no one to talk to all this time?" Draco shook his head, blinking swiftly. He hated appearing weak. 

Hannah looked sympathetic. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

"Well, Draco." Hannah said, looking at him with a small, understanding smile. "You can talk to me, or Ernie. Just let either of us know and we can take a long walk around the lake. Sound good?" Draco's eyes widened slightly but he nodded. 

"Wow, yeah. That's really... Really sweet of you two. Thank you." He replied. Ernie just nodded with a reassuring smile, and Hannah grinned softly. Draco wasn't quite used to, or sure of this support. 

Draco stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. "Why don't you hate me?" He asked quietly, weary of their motivations; a habit from years of living with fellow Slytherins who helped no one unless there was personal gain.

"Well, though it may seem strange for many others, I don't blame you for everything that has happened. It was a war. A lot of us did things we weren't particularly proud of. It was a dark time. And if all of us reject you, then it just really is a fault on our part. I think everyone has good in them, and I think everyone deserves a chance." Ernie said. Hannah nodded in agreement and Draco looked at them.

Really looked at them. He looked for signs of deception or cunning or that this was all a front, a trick. But as far as he could see, it wasn't It seemed to be genuine and kind and thoughtful. 

"Thank you." Was all Draco was able to say before the door opened and the professor walked in. 

The class passed by with a blur and Draco was the only person who was able to answer all of the professor's questions. 

As they stood up to head to their next class, Hannah helped Draco grab his papers, which had fallen onto the floor because of a breeze from the open window next to their table as Ernie apologized and quickly ran off to his next class, which was all the way across the castle or otherwise he would have stayed and helped pick them up. 

Draco thanked Hannah as they finished picking up the papers and headed out to the hallway.

"It's no problem, Draco, really." She smiled. "Right." Draco said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, unless we have later classes with each other." Hannah nodded. "Have a good day." She said with a little wave as she headed the opposite way down the hall. 

He waved back a little hesitantly and headed to his next class. 

This class, he had been looking forward to since he enrolled in it. 

It was his class about Magical Illnesses and Injuries. Contrary to popular belief, Draco had a strong stomach. Especially after the war. 

This helped with the fact that he wanted to be a healer. To heal, instead of break hearts. After all the death and injury from the war, he truly realized how fragile life is. 

As he walked to class, he paused for a second in the mostly empty hallway, a hand on his stomach as it growled.  _Damn it._ He thought to himself.  _I forgot to stop my the kitchens. Well, too late now._

Draco ignored his hunger and started back down the hall, going over some magical illnesses in his head and their symptoms distractedly. 

A voice rang out down the empty hallway. 

"I thought I told you to stop by the kitchens."

Draco looked up and saw it was Harry, and sneered at him. He was hungry, tired, irritable, and his chest hurt. "Shove off, Potter. What's it to you?" 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were civil? Well then. Frankly, it's eighth year Quidditch tryouts tonight and I'd very much like to beat you for the Seeker position, but fair and square. I can't beat you fairly if you don't eat, and then faint in the middle of trying to catch the snitch." Harry said, a playful shine in his eye.

"Yeah well you're one to talk, aren't you? Remember third year? You, falling off your broomsticks because of the dementors?" 

The playful spark in Harry's eye brightened. "Oh, I see how it is." He stalked across the hallway, and stood in front of Draco. Close. And assertive. "So, you gonna be there tonight? Or will my position be a given?" 

Draco's own eyes sparked with interest, and challenge. He hadn't even thought about joining the eighth year team. If he did, he'd be working with Potter, not against. 

He crossed his arms, looking down at Harry. "I'll be there, and I'll be the Seeker this year." He smirked, cocky and confident. 

Harry raised his eyebrow, as if agreeing to the challenge. "If you say so." He said with a grin on his face, before walking past Draco and starting down the hall. His hand brushed Draco's as he passed, and he ignored the flutter in his stomach. He was only eager for later that night when they'd go up against each other for the title of Seeker, right?

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, walking forward as well, towards his class. 

He had only walked a few paces before he felt something hit the back of his head, bouncing forward. Draco stumbled a little but thrust out his hands to grab what had hit him. It was an apple. He turned and glared down the hallway at Harry, who had a smug grin on his face. 

"I told you to eat. So eat, damn it." The messy haired boy said before winking and turning on his heel, going about his way.

Draco decided it was best to not respond and give Harry the satisfaction, so he just took a bit out of the apple and continued to class, just making it on time. 

He smirked to himself as he grabbed his books for the class out of his bag. So Harry really thinks he'll be the eighth year Seeker?  _That's cute, as if._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking of maybe getting Draco and Harry together in the next chapter or something but that's up in the air. Could take a few, could be the next one. I'll leave you waiting in suspense.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for this shorter chapter, next one should be longer.


End file.
